Across the lines of infinity

“If the work of the city is the remaking or translating of man into a more suitable form than his nomadic ancestors achieved, then might not our current translation of our entire lives into the spiritual form of information seem to make of the entire globe, and of the human family, a single consciousness?”  Marshall McLuhan

The bombs get closer and louder, but nothing can overcome the pulse of our hearts, now beating together.  The light on the ground below us reverberates through the earth.  I only see the light.  As a whole I walk above all of this.  We are all one beat.  Each second we become closer, one heart pumps from below us as the pulse of the earth awakens.  We look to the sky as we are drowning in the pink tears of the sun, fighting for life.  I forget about the part of me I can’t see any longer.  The part of me I ran from.  The part of me that frightened me.  The one they told me was not there.  The only part I thought was me.  I couldn’t look in mirrors, I didn’t know what I was seeing.  I didn’t have the comfort of feeling what I was because I was never supposed to touch what I was.  They had no definition of me.  I didn’t have the power back then to know I didn’t need a definition.  The light now defining us is eclipsed by a dark shadow, the bomb, a shadow of blackness blocking the light we were bathing in.  The bomb, the first one, an idea created from the blackest heart of man and the deepest fears.  We only hear our hearts beating as the bomb tries to overcome us with an explosion yet to come.  We close our ears simultaneously.  They call me Winona but I have no recollection of that name, numbing me, dividing me, our hearts pulse louder.  Our hands grip each other tighter as we gaze upon the bomb and see the light of ourselves shine through.  We no longer run, we no longer hide, fear has no control of us if we look out upon the lines attempting to divide us, and smile upon them in their loneliness.  Am I trapped in my own mind?  The darkness grows closer, surrounding me deeper.  I listen to them as they tell me I don’t belong.  The voices of the past encompassing me in their ignorance.  The line across my body deepens as I gaze into the mirror of my soul, seeing neither side as my own.  And there I am as a child.  In a corner, a life alone, always in a corner, in a closet, spoon fed fear, fearing what I was.  The explosion, in a piercing frequency, shakes my foundation.  They don’t quit.  We always do.  I always do.  That child, surrounded by light, the darkness entering in slight breezes, tentacles reach, holding on for a brief second, let go, but never truly gone.  They plant shadows into the deepest recesses of what I am.  They are never completely forgotten.  I close my eyes and feel the hands guiding me, the chain we are.  My hand reaches the earth, the shadows are burnt by the sun, the bomb attempting to multiply, is silenced above us.  The sun slowly rises, the orange beams of light gain strength, that child in the corner reaches for the sky as it holds onto the heart, giving life.  The bomb implodes into invisible shadows, dispersed and burned by the sun’s bright rays.  We stand together, and watch our first sun rise together. We look out upon the world we have been building for so long, there is a feeling none of us can explain or define we look to the sun but we promise never to forget the shadows that are always hiding from behind what we truly are

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